


Electric Tapestry

by NocturnLily



Category: Game Grumps, Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (Music Video)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Guns, Other, Science Fiction, Worldbuilding, Writing Exercise, non-binary Circle, tagging as GG cause the actual Magnum Bullets listing hasn't gained any traction yet, will add more tags as necessary!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnLily/pseuds/NocturnLily
Summary: Haloes of neon stretched into the rain, leaving holo-gems to tumble to the alley below. Something was off, and Tri's blood ran cold when he saw the den's door half-open in its frame.Some spitballing surrounding theincredibleworld and atmosphere crafted by Night Runner, Knights of the Light Table, and Dan Avidan. Will also contain some creative influence to fill in the gaps!
Kudos: 12





	1. Tri and Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The names of the rest of the pack were graciously provided by [KotLT's director on Twitter](https://twitter.com/LordDirk/status/1244383878862835714)! In an attempt to curry some more fan content of this amazing universe, I've added them all as tags on this work.

It was raining.

It was _always_ raining.

On the outskirts of town, neon flashed in hypnotizing pulses. On the outskirts, you could watch its seductive dance in safety. Between the towering teeth those lights danced around, though... that was what you had to watch out for.

A beast of steel, an unforgiving maw. The wilderness was no longer open plains, but asphalt tracks. The line between predator and prey blurred deeply until it was too late.

These were the lessons you learned as pups.

Clinking nearby jolted Tri out of his thoughts. _Startled_ , he thought with a sneer, _by drinks. That's a riot._

He'd been getting increasingly melancholy, lately — Circle was to blame for that. His snout twitched, canines shadowed from the cozy haze of cheap light fixtures. For all their slinking and scheming, Circle was a source of incredible luck and overwhelming frustration. Had been, since the pair of them were young.

Had to be, when the only hand that fed you was the same that could kill you in the night.

The wolf in question was among those toasting, and Tri switched off his HUDs. One by one, he never took his eyes from the other. Only the backlight of his optics stayed on, washing Circle in a soft haze of blue. Tri loved watching them like this — relaxed, unwound. Safe. Sure as hell was a far cry from the frantic, excited glee from a week ago.

It was a miracle they made it through that hit with their hides.

Circle chose that moment to pan across the room. They caught Tri's stare, the flutter rising in their throat silencing the room. Heavy and daring — Circle knew that look. Tri watched the constricted swallow, caught the uptick in pulse. He stared them down, an unspoken game of chicken, as Tri brought his own glass to his lips. The lifted chin was a coy display. Exposing his own throat as the liquor burned had its intended effect — parted lips, nostrils blown wide. Tri didn't need his implants to tell him Circle wanted to close the gap.

But the game was sacred. There was a protocol, and neither would break it. Not yet.

The exchange was an old dance, but it never failed to swell between them like a tide. It was sweet, gentle — a rare tenderness, only afforded in absolute safety. It had been a long time since either of them had that, with any sort of reliability, before the Den. Grateful as he was for Circle finding this place, Tri could never shake the feeling of needing to move, to stay mobile. Not fully.

He wouldn't let that ruin tonight, though.

Not with the celebration of a good haul, not with the undercurrent of electricity running through his family.

Tri pushed himself from his seat, leaving the imprint of his worries on the table as he crossed the room. Circle met him halfway, leaning into the gunman's touch as the jukebox on the wall shuffled songs. Someone whistled, and a few others of the pack followed suit.

 _No,_ he thought, tugging at the small of Circle's back. _I'll be damned if I let anything ruin tonight._


	2. Weasel & Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've got some Sad Headcanons™ about Hourglass, okay

Weasel could feel the speakers more than he could hear them, up here.

His fingers could only work so deftly, but the bass from the party below rattled up the mediocre soundproofing and thrummed in the sensors of his HUD. Irritated, his ears twitched, and his companion tapped the toe of her boot impatiently. The music downstairs was a good cover if anything went sideways, but that did nothing to quiet Hourglass's nerves.

"You got it yet?" she hissed.

"Patience," he warned. "These pins are sensitive and I—"

He should have taken the tools out as he spoke; in his irritation, fingers twitched a little too hard and Weasel felt metal touch together. His expression alone was enough to make Hourglass hold her breath, and a clawed hand hovered defensively over the SMG hanging on her side.

One moment passed. Another.

Nothing.

Neither of them dared to move, to _breathe_ , but the relief was stifled by the fact they still had a job to do. Weasel continued tinkering until the tumblers gave to his will, and sharp canines flashed in self-satisfaction. His tools disappeared, flipped into a pocket in his sleeves, as he backed away from the door.

"Your turn, love," he hummed, holding a hand out expectantly.

Hourglass snorted, softly, as she handed over her gun and made for the door. From the moment Weasel had gotten the lock she'd been keeping an internal count and, with a steady hand hovering over the knob, she waited a few beats before twisting the knob and stepping in with one stride.

The room was opulent, refined. A plush, low-cut carpet lined the floor, burgundy stretching from wall to wall. Shards of yellow glass hung in two separate chandeliers of tiered circles above, diffusing their warm light across the quiet emptiness. A seating area in front of a minimalist fireplace lay dark, where chairs upholstered with black leather and silver studded accents obscured a low-profile coffee table. The paneling on the walls was wooden, dated, and they were treated with a dark stain; it enveloped the room with a homey, cozy feeling — Hourglass knew better, knew what sort of company the owner kept.

She knew their flavour of entertainment.

A beeping square brought her back from the bile rolling up her neck and, without looking, flipped down the clear, plastic panel and rested an index finger on the smooth surface underneath. It flashed green, and a hard shiver raked down her spine. She hated that she was still registered in the system.

Hourglass didn't realize Weasel had already slinked his way into the room and flinched when he appeared silently before her. Apology flashed in his eyes and hands lifted, palms out, to show he meant no harm.

"Glassie?" His voice was soft and, as he reached out to take the hand still attached to the security panel, his touch was slow. She made no move to recoil. "Come on, you got this. We're almost done."

There was a gentle urgency to his tone; she knew they were on borrowed time, and let herself be tugged forward. Weasel had found the safe quickly enough, and Hourglass didn't have to take up guard again for long. The pair padded out the way they came, like they'd never been there, with a silver case glinting in the light of the halls.

Downstairs, at a poker table, Circle pulled in an arm full of chips with a self-satisfied grin — they didn't miss security eyeballing them three tables over.

Good. Eyes on them, only.


End file.
